Into the Wild
by Pereybere
Summary: A standard FBI expedition into the forest turns into something else. Eventually rated M NOW COMPLETE!
1. The Expedition

Into the Wild

Rating: Oh this story will definitely reach an M.

Summary: A standard FBI expedition into the forest turns into something else.

Disclaimer: I keep them in a cell and bring them out when I want to play with them.

_A/N: I think up new stories all the time, and this one just came into my head this afternoon. This chapter is short, to introduce the idea. Let me know what you all think._

_Thanks._

_Oh, and I would once again like to than everyone who has given me the kindest encouragement. I am so grateful! _

"I can't go alone," Booth said, stirring cream into his coffee and licking the spoon. "For one, the FBI don't allow it. Too dangerous. Secondly, it's a partnership, thing. Team work, friendship building –"

"You mean the waste of time stuff?" Hodgins asked from the corner where he leaned over a petrie dish of slug slime or something Booth didn't know.

"Well, yes, actually," he agreed, nodding his head. "It's a waste of time. But unfortunately, Bones, if I don't do it, I am automatically disqualified for it."

Temperance Brennan pulled a stool across the lab, positioning herself next to a sterile table of multiple remains. It was her task to match the bones to the correct bodies. She did not have time to waste – not now, and not at some stupid FBI expedition.

"I'm not a federal agent," she tried, pulling a magnifying glass across the table, squinting at the bone fragment through the glass. "So you see, I should be excluded from your little list. Move on, Booth." He shook his head, an expression of glee written across his handsome features. Some might have called it glee, at least. Brennan called it being sanctimonious.

"Well you see, Bones, that's were you might be surprised. There are no rules about federal agents. Isn't it great? Agent Sandrell is taking Dr Jensen from the County Coroners Office. Isn't that cool?" Brennan glanced up at him, her expression impassive yet infuriated at the same time. "And I've already cleared it." Booth added.

Angela stepped into the lab. "Cleared what?" She asked, hefting herself unto the work bench behind Brennan, swinging her long bare legs.

"Get this," Hodgins said, momentarily distracted from his slime. "Brennan is going on a trekking expedition with Booth. Into the deep, dark forest." Angela's eyes widened, twinkling with excitement, like a teenage girl being fed new and juicy gossip.

"Whoa, really?" Brennan snapped her head round.

"No! Not really! I haven't got time to go on some pointless FBI picnic." When Hodgins cleared his throat, they all lifted their heads, swinging their gazes towards the door, where Dr Goodman stood, arms behind his back, surveying the scene with his usual all seeing knowledge. After a few long seconds he smiled.

"Well actually," he said, "you have all the time required, Dr Brennan. You have accumulated annual leave that you haven't taken, once again, and in a few short weeks the tax year begins again, as you _well know_. If you don't take your remaining fourteen days…" Booth clapped his hands, showing teeth when he smiled.

Brennan dropped her head to her hands, groaning into her palms. "I don't want to go," she whined. "I don't like the forest. There's… bugs." Hodgins huffed.

"There is _nothing_ wrong with bugs. They're fascinating." Booth frowned.

"You people are crazy, you know that? Crazy." Angela giggled. "C'mon Bones, I'll be fun. It'll be better than fun. We can even play twenty questions." He bent his head, smiling into her eyes.

"Yeah… well, I don't know what that means. Is it educational? Like I ask you a question and you see if you know the answer?" Booth cast a fleeting glance at Goodman, who turned his head and snickered at nothing.

"Hmm, yes. Kind of. I'll explain the rules when we get there, okay? We'll have a briefing at the FBI headquarters tonight before we go to the motel. Meet me there at six." He practically skipped out of the office, tossing his keys into the air and catching them with a chuckle. Brennan watched him go, a frown passing across her face.

"Why do I think I won't like this game that Booth has got planned?" She asked, pushing the magnifying glass away. Angela slipped off the counter, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Oh sweetie, twenty questions with Booth? I wish _I_ was going."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"It's a three day trek," Agent Harris was saying, moving to the ink board mounted on the wall behind him. "You'll be given a map and a compass," he pointed with a red ink pen to a point on the roughly sketched diagram of the area. "Your hunting equipment will include a small net for fresh-water fishing, a hunting knife for the gutting of fish," he glanced around the room, "and-"

"A gun?" Brennan asked hopefully. "Do I get a gun?" Booth elbowed her side, gritting his teeth. Agent Harris capped his pen, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"You must be Dr Brennan. I've heard about your preoccupation with firearms," he said. "No, there will be no guns. For anyone. That would be too easy." Brennan slumped, her cheeks tined rose with mild embarrassment at the glances that passed between the other agents in the room. She saw the 'what a nut' expressions on their faces and noticed how Booth stiffened beside her.

Agent Harris was talking again. His voice taking on a monotone as he explained the mountainous terrain, the importance of waterproof clothing and make a sexist joke about suitable shoes and no heels. A muffled chorus of laughter drifted through the room, and even some of the women snickered. "Although the trek officially lasts three days, we're adding a little rivalry into the expedition. We would like everyone to move as swiftly as possible. There will be tasks to complete along the way-"

"What kind of tasks?" Brennan asked, squaring her shoulders.

"That would be telling," Agent Harris said, taking a pile of neatly folded maps into his arms. "Since the trek doesn't start until tomorrow, may I suggest you take some time to study these? I am assuming you will all be familiar with ordinance survey maps?" Everyone grunted. "Excellent. There are four teams of two bodies. I am now giving you an envelope with information about your tasks. You may open them tonight – it can't do any harm to prepare yourself, right?"

"I believe there is a sect which has a motto similar to this. Am I right?" Brennan whispered, leaning across to Booth. He grunted.

"Boy Scouts, Bones, not exactly the Illuminati. Pipe down, please?" She pursed her lips, taking the envelope offered to her.

"Cell phones, not that you will get a signal, are strictly forbidden. The same goes for GPS." Booth gaped.

"No GPS? Er, Agent Harris-"

"Is there some kind of argumentative class you people have been taking down at the Jeffersonian? Can't either of you be quiet?" Brennan clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing instinctively. "Right guys! That's everything. Good luck." As the agents filed out of the room, Brennan looked down at the envelope in her hand. She wondered what kind of puzzles would lie within and she worried whether or not she'd be able to solve them. Harris said it was a race, as such, and the knowledge aroused her competitive nature.

What if she couldn't maintain the pace? She wasn't a government agent. She identified bones and worked in a lab. Sometimes she plodded through fields with Booth, but trekking? Doing puzzles? Hunting?

"Time to go, Bones. You'll need as rest for tomorrow." Her thumb nail flicked against the edge of the envelope as she wondered what horrors might lie within. "Do you want me to take that?" Booth asked, and she shook her head, tucking it into bag.

"No. You study the maps and I'll get started on these. Lets go."

_Anyone interested in some Brennan and Booth action in the wilderness? I promise topless descriptions of Booth. Come on… let me know._


	2. Brunettes and Video Games

_Into the Wild_

_Rating: M all the way baby…_

_Disclaimer: Oh whatever. _

_A/N: I imagine pretty much everyone here has heard of or watched Lost. So I won't bother explaining about it. Some of you might not have heard of William Golding's Lord of the Flies. I studied this book for English Literature and in the story, a group of boys are stranded on a desert island because of a plane crash. Golding theorised in his book that if there are no figures of authority to implement rules then anarchy will ensue. Sure enough, it did in his book. Anyone who has read or watched The Beach will understand this point, too._

_Generally, this has no bearing on the story, but I do mention the book so I thought it would be good to explain what it meant. _

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"This is it?" Brennan asked, hands on her hips, staring into the semi-darkened expanse of trees. "This isn't a forest," she shouldered her rucksack, turning to Booth who was shaking his head, despairingly.

"Good luck, buddy," Agent Turner said, chuckling to himself. "Sounds like your anthropologist has it all worked out." Booth glowered, tucking his knife into his belt. "Does she even have any training? Where did you pick her up?" Turner laughed now and his partner, a small woman with short black hair joined in.

"Hey!" Booth said. "A little bit of respect, huh? Dr Brennan will be fine out here. I can guarantee it." Brennan joined his side, slipping her hand into her jacket and removing a slip of paper. The task information.

"We're going to do better than that," she said. "We're going to win. See you at the finish line, buster." Booth cringed, taking her elbow and steering her towards the winding path into the trees.

"Now you see, Bones, remember that conversation we had about _me_ doing all the talking? Hmm? Yea well, that still applies." Brennan's fingers clenched around the paper, her eyes glazed with annoyance. "'Cause now, when we lose? I'll never live it down." Brennan lifted her eyes to the fir trees that towered above her head.

"I don't plan on losing, though. I really think we will win." Booth turned his head, eyes wide.

"Really? Did you solve the puzzle?" Brennan shrugged.

"No. But I still think we'll win. C'mon, Booth, look at the opposition. I can imagine them sitting around their camp fires tonight knocking their heads together." Booth increased his pace, meandering through the trees.

"I know _I _feel like knocking my head against something. Y'know, Bones? They're still behind us and every time you speak, you make us another enemy. Be quiet, huh?" Brennan smiled to herself, clamping her lips shut. If she continued to irritate Booth, he'd have her gagged and bound by lunch time. While some people might have liked the idea, she had no intentions of playing bondage games in the woods.

After thirty minutes, the other teams had moved off in different directions, following the routes drawn out on their maps. Booth had been studiously reading theirs, theorising that, if they maintained a steady pace, they could be at base one by four thirty. Brennan frowned.

"Isn't that a little early?" She asked, squinting at the trees. The forest had grown steadily thicker, mocking her earlier statement. She didn't imagine they were anywhere near a clearing. Or a river.

"Not if we walk fast." The simplicity of his answer made her smile. Booth wasn't into semantics, it seemed. There was no explanation. No plan, or method or system. All she needed to do, apparently, was maintain a brisk pace. Which was exactly what she had been doing anyway, because Booth had very long legs and wide strides. "Owens and Patterson are in excellent physical shape. If we lag, they'll gain ground."

"How do you know they're not already ahead?" Brennan asked, stepping over a fallen log, twigs crunching beneath their feet.

"They went the wrong way about twenty minutes back," Booth explained, then threw her a wicked grin. "Worked a case with Owens about two years back. Excellent runner, good strength but a terrible sense of direction." Brennan gaped, stunned at his cunning. She couldn't resist the giggle that bubbled in her chest.

He glanced down at their compass, then gestured off to the right. "Patterson will realise, eventually. Hopefully not any time soon." Booth breathed in, his eyes falling closed. "Don't you just love the wilderness, Bones? No pollution. No cars." Brennan shrugged.

"Mostly the wilderness just unnerves me, actually," she admitted, sidestepping a dip in the terrain. "Too unpredictable. One minute you're plodding on nicely and the next minute you've fallen down a fifteen foot ditch unto a row of deadly spikes." Booth glanced at her sideways, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Been playing Tomb Raider in your office, Bones?" He asked. Brennan shrugged.

"I don't know what that means. Is it an adventure game?" They stepped over a little watery brook that was perhaps a foot wide. Booth shrugged.

"Mostly it's just this smoking British babe with long, _long_ legs, tiny, _tiny_ hot pants and very big breasts. Plus she carries a bazooka and can do back flips. She's very agile." Brennan rolled her eyes, unsurprised at Booth's testosterone overload. He was highly sexed, she'd always suspected it. What with Tessa and the afternoon sex fests.

"But she's computer generated, right?" Booth nodded. "Isn't that a little disturbing? Fantasising over what is essentially a drawing?" Brennan asked, ignoring the squawk of birds high above their heads. She'd grown accustomed to the sounds of animals and nature. If she stopped to think about it, the noises of the environment were quite deafening.

"What does it matter? A hot woman is still a hot woman, regardless of whether she's a computer animated or not. Besides, there's something very appealing about a woman who can leap across two hundred feet deep chasms without a thought." Brennan frowned, shaking her head.

"Yeah and I'll bet she has a waist that is totally not in proportion to her breasts, and she looks just like Barbie." Booth nodded, his eyes wide.

"That's the best part, Bones. She's Barbie, only with brown hair and brains." Brennan ducked under a cluster of trees, stepping into a small clearing. Above their heads, she caught a glimmer of blue sky.

"You do realise she's not real?" Brennan didn't want to admit it, but Booth's blatant afternoon fantasy of his brunette Barbie was beginning to irritate her. How could he be so insensitive, anyway? Did he fail to understand that women did not like to hear about females more attractive than themselves? Not that it mattered, anyway.

"So? There's no harm in a fantasy, Bones. You don't fantasise about someone who isn't real every now and again?" She contemplated this, and realised that she didn't.

"No." Her thoughts had taken quite a dangerous direction – as had their conversation. She heard his question before he even voiced it.

"Then who-"

"No one, Booth. Fantasies have no redeeming value. Reality is much better." She wondered if he knew she was lying through her gritted teeth. Of course she had fantasies, normally in the middle of the night. She hadn't really considered it before, because she had no power over her dreams. But there had been numerous occasions of late when she'd woken up, drenched in sweat with a certain name on the tip of her tongue.

"Booth…" she sighed.

"Hmm?" He turned his head, and she blushed.

"No… nothing. You know, this whole setting, it makes me feel like I'm stranded and no one is ever going to find me again." Booth chuckled.

"Well, when we see a column of black smoke and a polar bear turns up out of nowhere, then we'll worry," he said. Brennan smiled.

"You know, for once, I know what you're talking about." Booth couldn't help the look of surprise that flitted across his features. "The TV show, right? About the plane crash? Yeh… how unrealistic is that?" Brennan fidgeted with her rucksack, wondering why she'd been tricked into carrying the tent, with all its numerous poles.

Booth shook his head. "What's so unrealistic?" Brennan rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm not into psychology-"

"Yeh you've mentioned that. Only about a hundred times every single day," Booth interjected. Brennan threw him a glare.

"_Anyway_… with so many people living there, and no one to apply rules or laws, the human instinct to survive would have provoked the animalistic instincts. The alpha males in the show would battle for dominance-"

"They do! Jack and Sawyer hate each other," Booth reminded her.

"Only because they want to get into the criminal girl's pants," Brennan said. "In real life, taking an animal, which is essentially what we are, out of our natural habitat with no time to adapt with say, evolution, we would never adjust to such surroundings or be able to survive. Basically we'd go insane and the show would really be a programme about murder – not about spooky goings on. Besides which, no one could survive a plane crash like that." Booth gave a low whistle.

"What a way to take the sexiness out of it. Now I'll never be able to watch Kate in her bra and panties showering under the waterfall without thinking I should be more preoccupied with how unlikely it is she'd even be alive or why Sawyer isn't out dropping boulders on people's head." He sighed. "Thanks, Bones!" She smiled, knowing that she'd battled intellectually and won. There was no greater feeling.

"You've read Lord of the Flies, then?" She asked.

"Hmm?"

"The boulder." Booth half nodded, half shrugged.

"Yeah… I vaguely remember reading it." Brennan paused, pressing her back against the tree, inhaling a deep breath.

"And? What did you think of it?" Booth stopped now too, crouching. He shook his rucksack off his shoulders and unzipped the bag.

"I remember feeling very sorry for the boys," he said, rummaging inside.

"I know. Imagine being torn away from your family and having to endure such terror all alone," Brennan acknowledged, frowning when Booth shook his head, pulling an aluminium wrapped parcel from inside his bag.

"No, Bones, imagine being all alone on an island without a chick in sight," he winked. "Cheese sandwich?"

She rolled her eyes and snatched it from his hand.

_Okay… I promise, there will be naked Booth. Really. I just didn't want to jump into a totally unrealistic sex scene. Fancy more? Twenty questions are not far away, either._


	3. Sensual Bathing

_Into the Wild_

_Rating: M – which will come soon, but for now, I'm going to tease you. evil laugh Booth and Brennan are going to play a little game._

_Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, not mine, blah, blah, blah Fox Network, blah…_

_A/N: I think I'm in love with the idea of Booth getting all primitive. How hot would it be to see him as caveman or something? I think I need a tissue. Drool just hit the floor. Damn. Please enjoy._

_Sweetest Seduction_

"Well, I think is where we're meant to stop," Booth said, turning to the gushing river, hands on his hips. "And I couldn't be more glad." Brennan shucked off her rucksack and nodded, dropping to the ground with a heavy sigh. "Feeling the pressure, Bones?" Booth asked, glancing at her now.

Through the semi-darkness, he could tell she was tired. Her fingers clenched and unclenched her shoulder as she rolled her neck. "Well, I did tell you. I would much prefer to be at the Jeffersonian now." Booth chuckled, tossing his own bag unto the ground.

"Squinting a skeletons and listening to Hodgins? C'mon Bones, relish your freedom, huh?" Crouching, he began to unpack the tent from her bag, systematically removing the poles one by one, examining them each in turn. After a few seconds, he looked up. "Did I ever tell I'm not so good with these things? Maybe you could pitch it and I could see about catching fish?" Brennan sighed.

"This is why you brought me here, isn't it? To carry the tent and do all the hard work." She sank to her knees, unrolling the khaki green canvas that would act as their roof for the evening. Brennan continued to roll her shoulders and attempted to ignore the pain in her feet. She wondered if the other agents had stopped yet. Or if they had come across any tasks. She'd noticed none so far. It made her wonder if they'd done something wrong.

"Are you okay, Bones?" Booth asked, dipping his head to look into her eyes. She blinked.

"Aren't you meant to be off catching food? Or am I doing that too?" He grumbled, removing a small hand net from his rucksack and unclipping his knife from his belt. When he began to descend the slope to the river, Brennan released a sigh and pressed her head to her bag, wishing she could go to sleep at that moment. No tent. No food. It didn't matter. She was too tired anyway.

It took her thirty minutes, but she managed to erect the tent without causing much chaos. She almost broke her wrist, twice, trying to hammer the spikes into the ground. Booth had picked quite hard terrain to camp for the night, and as her muscles twitched painfully she resisted the urge to scream 'bastard' through the trees.

Standing, she brushed dried leaves off her pants and swiped her hand across her brow. Her skin smelt earthy, filled with the scents of nature. Brennan wondered why she felt no pride in the completion of her task. She thought of nothing but slipping into an extremely hot bath. If only. The closest she'd get to a bath tonight was a wipe down with frigidly cold river water.

Moving down the slope in the general direction of Booth, Brennan wondered if he'd made any progress. Bending, she scooped water into her hands and splashed her face, breathless at just how cold it was. She marvelled why the FBI had organized an expedition in early spring instead of summer. Wouldn't July have been logical?

She clicked her tongue, thinking that, if the Jeffersonian had organised it, they'd have been thorough, and much cleverer in their approach.

Brennan searched the water for her partner, finding that the expanse of river appeared empty. She sighed. Now where had he gone? Was Booth incapable of remaining on one train of thought or a single task for any more than five seconds? Why was she so irritated, anyway?

She thought of the Tomb Raider conversation from earlier and realised she'd bristled after that. The rational woman in her had always known Booth was sexually attracted to women. He had enough flocking after him. But she had stupidly indulged in a idiotic thought that, when they were together, she was the only person on his mind. Apparently not. It seemed he thought of just about everyone who had breasts and legs.

A explosive slash in the water jolted her attention back, and she saw Booth, waist deep in the river, holding the net triumphantly. "Bones!" He called, and she caught sight of a silvery fish wriggling inside it. "I got one. How good am I, huh?" She didn't answer. There was she, inwardly chiding Booth for his lack of concentration and now her thoughts had drifted off altogether.

He removed his flannel shirt – and he looked primitive, submerged to his torso in the water, his dark brown nipples hardened by the cold. He looked delicious, his bronzed skin slick, rivulets running over his chest, past his pectorals, meandering through the taut bunched abdominals, and back into the river again. She blinked, willing herself to pay attention to what he said, but she was distracted by the line of dark hair that disappeared under his waistband. She had never seen his pants quiet so low strung.

"I knew I could do this, Bones. Just needs practice." She ran her tongue across her lips, blushing. "You alright?" He waded back to the shore, his catch had ceased to move. He held it by its tail, lifting it for her inspection, all-male pride written across his features. She caught his eye, then watched as a single drop slipped along his jaw and dripped off his chin. His cheeks were darkened with afternoon stubble. There was a ruggedness about him that had nothing to do with being a clean cut federal agent.

Seeley Booth looked like he belonged in nature.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Are you sure you've never went camping?" He asked when she had arranged a pile of dried leaves and logs inside a ring of medium sized stones. For someone who had never watched movies it was astounding how much Hollywood knowledge she had acquired.

"Never. Logic tells me that it's quite simple to make a fire with matches, Booth. I'm not asking you to use flint." He smirked. Trust Temperance Brennan to be clinical and rational at all times. She was hilarious sometimes. "Erm, Booth?" Her eyes shifted awkwardly from the fire to his face. "This woman on the TV show… is it something in particular about her that you like when she bathes semi-naked in the water?" He paused, halting the task he'd started of slicing the fish. His brow furrowed.

He didn't want to sound like a crazed nymphomaniac. So he shrugged. "Yeah… I guess there is something about her." Brennan dipped her head, once, in a sharp nod, rising to her feet.

"Good," she said. "Because I didn't want to be distracting you when I bathe." She moved toward the river, pulling her shirt over her head. His body stilled at the sight of her bare back – his mouth instantly dry. "While you make the food, I'm going to get cleaned up. Call me, okay?"

When she was out of sight, he blinked.

Christ almighty! Bones was sexy? Who the hell would have thought that, underneath all the science and infuriating logic, Brennan had a killer ass and the sexiest body ever? He shook his head.

"Jesus," he whispered, wrapping the fish in aluminium foil and dropping it unto the travel grill.

He was having trouble dissecting the new information. Of course he found other women attractive. Hell, he thought, raking his fingers through his still wet hair, how could he not? He was a man. But there was a tingling in his groin that made him realise he didn't been so attracted to a woman in a long time. Ordinarily, he needed a glimpse of breast. Bones had shown her back. Her smooth, bare back. And it was enough.

It didn't take fresh fish very long to cook. Within fifteen minutes, a succulent smell rose from the grill and when he peeled the foil back the flesh was tender and crumbled easily. He removed it, rummaging in his rucksack for the little plastic plates. Some things were necessity and plates, in Booth's eyes, were included.

"Bones?" He called, getting to his feet and moving down the slope to where she bathed. He willed himself to remain in control. She wasn't naked and she was submerged to her neck. He would be okay if he didn't fantasise.

"Is it ready?" Brennan called from the centre of the river. He nodded. "Great, I'll be there in a second."

He hesitated and then turned to leave when she stood, the top half of her body exposed to the chilly evening air. He halted, noting how her sensible sports bra, drenched, had went transparent and her nipples were hardened to tight little peaks. He saw every line and curve of her body and felt himself harden immediately.

"Christ Bones," he whispered, dropping his eyes to his feet. The temptation was too much. As she rubbed unscented soap unto her hands, and passed the it across her skin, he stifled a groan. She looked delectable, her taut torso flexed when she passed her soapy fingers across her belly and her lips parted. She knew he was watching her and, damn, she was playing on it.

He shifted.

Who would have thought Temperance Brennan had familiarised herself with the art of seduction?

She trailed her fingers through her hair, leaning back and submerging the soapy locks in the water. The sight of the darkened strands fanning out, in the silvery water made her look celestial. She slipped one strap of her bra off her shoulder and passed the soap across her chest, under the water to where her breasts were no concealed. He turned his back, so hard it hurt.

She caught his eye. "Are you alright, Booth?" She asked.

_Oh Bones, _he thought_, tonight is definitely twenty questions night. And I will make you sleep with me._

_One way or another._

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Next up, twenty questions. I promise. And I always keep my promises. You got your topless Booth, didn't you?


	4. Twenty Questions

**Into the Wild**

_Twenty Questions & Infinite Revelations _

_Disclaimer: Nothing's changed from chapter one. They still belong to someone else. _

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! There has been so much feedback for this story and I am so happy! Thanks to everyone who liked topless Booth and to those of you who are male, I'm glad you liked Brennan too. Lord of the Flies is not one of my bedtime reads, but I figured it was intellectual and isn't that what Brennan and Booth are about? And the majority of reviews seemed to be because of an interest in Twenty Questions._

_So for those of you who have been waiting for that… here it is._

_Enjoy._

Brennan ate the fish with trepidation, as though it might not be properly cooked, or worse, not even dead.

She picked through the tiny bones with her plastic fork and he imagined she was cataloguing them inside her vast mind.

After washing herself down she'd combed her hair through and braided the wet strands. She wore a khaki green vest and combated pants. He was surprised at how much she suited the wilderness. Doctor Temperance Brennan, an explorer? In his mind, the picture would never have fit.

Until now.

"Did you purify this water?" She asked, titling her tin cup and narrowing her eyes at the liquid within. He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, Bones, fresh from the purifier. You're in the middle of nowhere! Besides, everyone knows water from the river is the best." She eyed him sceptically. "Cross my heart." Booth scrunched the aluminium foil into a ball and tossed it at her head. She dodged it, crossing her arms. "Tomorrow we've to hike uphill. It'll be a tiring trek and if we're to maintain our pace, we'll have to move quick." Brennan nodded, pushing her plate aside. "Do you think you can handle it?" She glanced at him through lowered lashes.

"I'm here, aren't I?" She finished what remained inside the tin cup and stretched. He swallowed.

"Yeah, Bones, you are." Booth trailed his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily. "I haven't told you how much I appreciate this. I'd be stuck with some green agent if it weren't for you." Brennan shrugged, toeing the ground with her boots. She looked awkward – quite unlike her. He was unsure whether to be unnerved or endeared. "Yeh well… thanks." He poked the fire, sending a shoot of orange into the air.

"You're welcome," Brennan said at last. "Damn… don't you just wish you had your cell phone?" She added, lifting her eyes to the darkened trees above their head. The forest was ominously silent at night. It unnerved her senses. Made her think of being watched. The logical, and most extensive part of her brain chided her stupidity. But everyone had a percentage of natural fear and irrational thought.

"Not really," Booth said, stretching his long legs out, resting against his rucksack. "I've spent a lot of time outdoors. I find nothing frightening about nature. I think maybe you've spent too much time cooped up bent over a microscope." Brennan glared, then shrugged.

"Maybe," she admitted. "It's hard to follow a train of rational thought without technology to back it up." Thinking of Zach, she wondered how he would cope outside of the Jeffersonian. He seemed so at ease with technology. She hoped he wouldn't find himself sitting, ten years down the line, afraid of nature.

She caught Booth's eye and half smiled. "What was with you earlier? Did I 'distract' the man who's only interested in cyber babes?" Booth chuckled.

"Not at all, Bones. Totally platonic. I've decided that was officially question number one, by the way." Brennan frowned. "Twenty questions, Bones. I promised you, remember? It was part of the ploy to get you out here." She crossed her arms.

"I thought it was meant to be educational," she huffed.

"It is!" Booth defended. "I learn stuff about you, you learn stuff about me. It's easy. My turn." Brennan cringed, straightening her spine. He saw the apprehension on her features and felt a tingle of excitement. Oh how much fun would he have with her? Would twenty really be enough?

"Is this a sadistic game?" Brennan asked.

"I'm sorry, Bones, I cannot answer that. It's not your turn. Okay, okay, did you sleep with David the Internet psycho guy?" Brennan lifted her eyes, the glowing embers catching the brilliant blue, highlighting her surprise and her humiliation. He acknowledged the tell-tale stiffen of her shoulders.

"Isn't that personal?" She asked, tossing her braid over her shoulder. He watched as she drew her knees to her chest – a classic defensive mechanism.

"We didn't specify that personal questions weren't allowed, Bones. Specificity is very important in a game like this." He winked and she growled.

"Well then I want to change the rules-"

"Uh, no. Unfortunately it doesn't work like that, Dr Brennan. Plus, I'm going to have to rush you." She pressed her forehead to her knees.

"No. No I did not," she murmured, her voice muffled.

"Why?" Brennan lifted her head, a smile tugging at her lips.

"I don't believe it is your turn," she said. "You did realise when you started this game, that it works both ways?" He shrugged easily, folding his arms across his torso. He looked so cocky. He always looked so in control.

"Go ahead, Bones, do your worst. I've nothing to hide." She hummed, knowing instinctively that Seeley Booth had many, many things to hide. He kept a labyrinth of secrets hidden just beneath the surface of coolness.

"Why did Tessa break up with you?" She leaned closer, eagerly awaiting his response. He shrugged again.

"She didn't. My turn!" Brennan wasn't entirely sure what had happened. One minute she was gaining on him and the next minute he'd found a God damn loop hole! "Why didn't you sleep with Internet stalker guy?" Brennan threw her head back against the rucksack, her eyes falling closed.

"Stop calling him that, Booth. He wasn't a psycho and he wasn't a stalker," she said. "I decided I did not find him physically attractive. Why are you no longer with Tessa? Ha! There's no loop hole for that one, is there?" He chuckled, the sound gruff, catching the night air. Her skin prickled in awareness.

"I broke up with her. So who have you been sleeping with?"

"No one. Why did you break up with Tessa?"

"You're a little preoccupied with this, right?"

"Can't answer, not your turn. Don't sidetrack, it's against the rules." Brennan found herself smirking.

"I didn't love her. So, no fantasies and no sex. Are you asexual?"

"I resent the implication. You say asexual like it means I am frigid. I am not. So, no love for the lawyer lady. Why?" Booth drew a circle in the dirt with his finger, gnawing on his lip.

"I cannot force myself to love someone I don't love. So, not asexual. Did you lie about the fantasy thing?" She blushed crimson and the twinge to her cheeks was visible, even in the dim orange light.

"Maybe. What's your deepest secret?" Booth dug his finger deeper into the dirt.

"I took Latin American dance lessons when I was a kid and competed until I was eighteen. Who is in your fantasy?" She shrugged.

"No one you know. Can you still dance?" Brennan's eyes were bright, her thoughts aroused by the thought of Booth, dancing with style and sophistication.

"Yes. Are you lying again about the fantasies?"

"No. What's your favourite Latin American dance, then?"

"Tango, what else? Lying is not permitted in the game. Do I know this person?"

"Fine. Possibly. Do you wish you'd married Parker's mom?" Booth laughed, now.

"It's the equivalent of asking a man if wants to be put in the gas chamber. And even then, that's preferable to being married to her. Do we work with this man?"

"Yes. Do you want more children?" Brennan felt herself wait with bated breath and a tight chest on his answer.

"Only if I plan on being with someone for the rest of my life. Is he sexy?" Brennan dropped her hands.

"Can't you vary your questions a little? Yes, he's sexy. What kind of woman do you want to spend your life with?" Booth stopped drawing circles for a moment, his eyes glazed. After a long lapse of silence, he shrugged.

"Someone who loves me unconditionally. And who I can love in return. What do you think is sexy in a man, then?" Brennan shrugged.

"Strength and vulnerability. A man who isn't afraid to show emotions. Who can admit defeat and yet remain confident always. Have you ever loved someone unconditionally?"

"Yes. Do you think I have strength and vulnerability?"

"Yes I do. Who did you love unconditionally?"

"A woman who thinks she knows everything, never admits defeat and somehow makes my chest ache when she'd not there. Does this strength and vulnerability thing mean you think I'm sexy?"

"Possibly. So this unconditional love thing… it's ongoing, is it?" Booth nodded.

"Oh yeah, Bones. It's ongoing." She blinked, then suddenly what he'd said seemed to click and all the pieces fell into place. She wasn't thinking of her next question or what technique she might need to sidestep his. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her lips trembled. "Bones? It's my turn…" She cleared her throat.

"Oh… yeh… go on."

"If I was the last man on Earth, would you have sex with me?" She resisted the urge to blush again and found an unexpected surge of courage. Her back straightened and she tilted her chin.

"I'm not sure you'd need to be the last man." He recoiled, a wickedly handsome grin spreading across his face.

"Oh," he said.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Can I ask my question now?" Booth chuckled.

"Game over, Bones."

"But I still have some left-"

"Bones. I said 'Game Over'." He prowled towards her, like a devious cat, his dark eyes shining like blackened orbs of onyx. He looked like a predator and she imagined she was his prey. Swallowing hard, she nodded once.

"Okay."

_Anyone up for some Booth and Brennan wilderness sex? I couldn't resist with the Booth dancing thing. I have to admit I cannot resist a man who can dance. Might even have him teach Brennan the art of it in a oneshot. Reviews are oh so welcome!_

_Oh and one last thing – lots of you will know what a 'green agent' is. For those of you who do not, it's an agent who is just new._


	5. The Greatest Development

Into the Wild

Rating: Apparently people like M rated stories. Who knew? Ha! However there seems to be a lot of people out there who do not. For this reason, please be _very_ aware that herein you will find scenes of graphic, consensual sex. Please don't send me emails telling me you were not warned. Oh and… for anyone who wants more graphic stories, please ask me personally because I am not allowed to post MA stories on here. Email me. I'll be happy to comply wink, wink

Disclaimer: It's irrelevant. Okay… maybe Fox won't agree so for the record, they're not mine.

A/N: I think I covered it all.

He didn't touch her, at first.

There was a gleam in his eyes that told her everything she needed to know. Somehow, she imagined this point had been carefully orchestrated. Booth wanted to play the game even before they'd left DC. She understood why, now. Twenty Questions was a game where revelations were inevitable and, whether she liked it or not, he was going to squeeze every ounce of privacy out of her life.

And he was going to play on it, arouse her and then, all his plans would join and he'd be hovering over her with a wicked grin and eyes that undressed, aroused and pleasured all at once.

Booth would be good at pleasuring. He oozed sexuality and men like him did not ooze it unless they were good at carrying the implication through.

She felt heat rise in her chest and her stomach knotted with sweet anticipation. His mouth was close. She felt his breath on her lips and inhaled the loveliness of it. All her dreams, her forbidden fantasies, had been way off the mark. It was better. A million times better. And he didn't even kissed her yet.

When his hand brushed over her shoulder, along her bare arm, she shivered, all the tiny hairs standing on end. He stroked her skin, caressing, familiarizing. His fingers mapped her. She tilted her head, encouraging his kiss. Time moved agonizingly slow. The seconds ticked by, his hand seeming to pause every few inches. He touched her neck, his face conveying his fascination.

"There's something about you, Bones," he said, leaning close, continuing his study of her body. "I can't get you out of my head." She shifted, her fingers twitching as she inhaled the scent of him – rugged and earthy. He smelt wild and untamed and she wanted their bodies to reflect that. She wanted to be wild and untamed, too.

Her fingers moved over his torso, the images of his nakedness burned into her memory. She saw the water run over him and wished it could have been her hands. Or her tongue. Or both. "Booth-"

He touched her lips with his, gentle, savouring the taste of her. Savouring the first initial contact – because he knew he would never get to kiss her for the first time, ever again. She leaned into him, instigating, leading. Brennan had never been an overly submissive lover. But she'd never found such courage or felt such a surge of urgency or desire before.

Her fingers clung to the base of his neck, her mouth searching him, begging. She'd never begged before, either. Her previous lovers had always done the running, and normally the sexual begging. Booth… he was different. He knew he had her. He knew, from the moment they met, that she felt a tingle of arousal every time she looked at him.

And he damn well knew who her fantasy figure was.

Booth had a dexterous tongue. Even her sexually addled brain, she knew how to be scientific. Dexterous definitely described how his tongue explored her mouth. She had read somewhere that a kiss was the most arousing part of sex. She had never believed it, because she had always felt kissing was just a way of slowing it down. Otherwise sex wouldn't last five minutes.

But with Booth, the languorous way he tasted her lips, inside her mouth, his tongue rolling against hers, she understood just how sexual it could be. His kiss alone was better than all the foreplay she'd experienced before.

He fell back against his rucksack and she settled against his hips, his hands slipping beneath her vest, splayed across her back. His fingertip traced the line of her spine, tickling and stirring all her senses until her body tingled with anticipation.

He tugged at the hem and she lifted her arms, allowing him to pull her top off. Momentarily, she held her arm across her breasts, unnerved by how he looked at her – with passion unleashed. He reached for her wrist, pulling her arm away, his lips parting. He sighed.

"Don't," he warned. "You look amazing. Better than amazing you-" He shook his head, recalling how she'd looked in her transparent sports bra. The sight of her was committed to memory. He passed his fingers over her breast, astonished at how her nipple tightened in an instant and her breathing hitched a little. She wriggled against his groin, whimpering. He'd been told by women before that he was a good lover. A considerate lover. But no one had responded to him like Brennan.

He circled the hardened nub with his thumb, bending his head and following the path with his tongue. She gasped, tossing her head back. "Booth-" Her fingers tightened in his hair, clutching with fists. He took her nipple between his teeth, wishing he'd removed her bra, too. He wanted to taste her. Feel her skin inside his mouth.

He ran his tongue across her chest, along her throat. He sucked on her pulse, satisfied and aroused by how her hearted raced at his touch.

When their clothes were removed, their hands roamed, revelling in the feel of skin against skin and how, despite the cool night air, their skin felt fevered.

Brennan positioned herself over him, and he sank into her, hissing her name.

Temperance.

Not Brennan. Not Bones.

The sound of her given name on his lips aroused her more than she could have imagined. He'd released inhibitions and crossed a line. He acknowledged in one word, her name, that she wasn't just the forensic anthropologist who helped him sometimes. He had acknowledged she was a woman. A woman he wanted.

She held him against her, their bodies thrusting and rocking in a frenzied dance. Brennan whispered and moaned, quite astounded at how he felt. She wasn't exactly a virgin to sex. She wasn't a virgin to _good _sex. But… Booth was something else entirely.

He was amazing.

The best by far.

She let him take control, holding her hips, thrusting, faster and faster until she felt her body stiffen and her orgasm approached so fast she had no time to prepare. No time to compose herself. She cried out, his name echoing through the trees, into the darkness. He pressed his lips to hers, smoothing her cries as torrent after torrent of euphoria thundered through her veins, through her womb, centred right where he thrust a final time, his teeth closing around her lower lip as his body released him of his own desperate desire.

Brennan felt weak. Her limbs soft and useless as she fell against him, her chest heaving.

His arms snaked around her, his breath hot and heavy against her throat.

"Bones," he whispered, as if he were enthralled by her. She smiled, nuzzling his chest closing her eyes. He smelt better, now.

He smelt of earth, rugged manliness and sex. Hot, sticky sex.

She breathed him in. "Guess I didn't need to be the last man," he quipped and she giggled.

"No, Booth. If there were a thousand men lined up, I'd still pick you." He kissed her head.

"That's good odds," he said. She hummed in agreement. "Maybe we should…" he gestured to the tent behind then. "Remember tomorrow is a tiring day, Bones. If don't know if either of us will be strong enough, now." She thought of how she'd handle it, trekking through the forest when she knew they'd had sex. When she knew everything was different and he wasn't really imagining the Tomb Raider woman.

She dressed quickly, crawling into the tent and slipping under the sleeping bag, yawning widely. Brennan didn't remember a time when she was quite so tired. Or quite so satisfied, either.

Booth fell against his makeshift pillow next to her, his arm falling easily around her waist. She wondered at the development. They'd never be able to shift backwards. He'd claimed ownership of her, in so many ways. There would be no Internet men, now. Booth had obviously been keeping his eye on her, waiting to stake his claim. And he had.

"Night, Bones," he murmured against her hair and she smiled.

"Night, Booth."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Morning came much to early.

Booth woke first, scrubbing his hand along his face. In two days, they'd be free of the forest, allowed to go back to Washington where they could sleep in a bed, work in heated offices and eat food cooked by someone else.

For now, he would have to wake Brennan and they'd have to head off. And soon.

He touched her shoulder and she murmured, turning. Her blue eyes blinked, confused. Memories of what they'd done sunk in, followed by the realisation that she could not blame it on alcohol. "Hmm… Booth?" He nodded, unzipping the tent, pulling back the canvas and inhaling the pine scented, fresh morning air.

"We need to go, Bones. It's already six thirty." She rubbed her eyes, pulling her hair from her face. Tendrils had come unbound during the night, framing her face. She looked dishevelled. It suited her. "I think we'll find our first task, today." Booth said, slipping out of the tent. She followed.

"I'd forgotten about that," she admitted. They caught sight of her bra, discarded by the edge of the fire. Brennan snatched it, a blush colouring her cheeks. "I can be ready in ten minutes," she hurried, untying her hair and pulling a comb from her rucksack. He nodded abruptly.

"Good. The sooner we're out of here, the better."

Packing the tent away proved easier than putting it up. He found he was able to do it without help, rolling the canvas and slipping it into the little carry bag. He marvelled over how such a small amount of material even converted into something so big. Then, pushing the poles into the bag, he dropped the lot into Brennan's rucksack. She was humming to herself, changed now into new cargo pants and a grey shirt. She'd combed her hair through and tied it into a knot at the nape of her neck.

Booth had mentioned a lot of uphill walking. He'd told her it would be tough going. As they plundered through the trees, the terrain remained flat for over an hour. Brennan listened to the sound of nature while they continued in companionable silence. Booth didn't mentioned sex. Neither did she. It seemed easier, more professional.

She thought of it. Almost every other minute. Searing images of his mouth on her, him inside her, him kissing her, bombarded her brain until she fazed everything else out. Which was probably why she failed to hear the thundering rush of water that surrounded them. She didn't establish nearing the waterfall until she stood at the edge of an almost infinite chasm, looking down into the edge of the river, below. Just beyond the stony strip, she saw the water. It looked cold.

"Hmm…" Booth said. She knew that the river was at least three times the width of the one they'd camped at. The water meandered away to her left and to her right the waterfall cascaded, spraying a fine cool mist against their skin as it fell. She saw no bridge. No way to cross.

"Yeah," she said at last. "Hmm." Booth crouched, concentrating – deep in thought. She watched as his features registered realisation and he winced.

"I think we've stumbled upon our first task, Bones." She felt her eyes widen.

"I was hoping we'd just went the wrong way," she said at last.

"There's only one way across." He pointed down. "We go down, swim across and climb up." She shook her head, slowly.

"We have no ropes!" Booth shrugged, shucking off his rucksack.

"Do you have anything breakable in that?" He asked. She shook her head. "Good, that'll make this easier then." And he tossed his rucksack over the edge. It seemed to fall for a minute before they heard the thud as it hit the stony shore below. When she took hers off, it followed. "I go first, Bones. Watch you footing and for God's sake… be careful."

With that, he turned and began to descend the slope.

Hmm… I had much, _much_ more graphic thoughts in mind. Half way through I realised I was starting to break the rules. If you want the graphic version, email me.

Anyway, reviews are welcome. Plus, I have something in mind for task three. Hope you'll want more.


	6. The First Task

Into the Wild

_Over the Top_

_Rating: This story is rated an M. This chapter, who knows?_

_Disclaimer: Fox wouldn't have to balls to put them in the forest with horny thoughts. I have to take the leap!_

_A/N: Thanks for all those who reviewed in the last chapter. Thanks to all the many, many of you who kept me busy yesterday emailing the unedited version. I never expected there would be so many private messages in my inbox. Proof that I'm not the only crazed pervert out there! I will have more unedited versions for those of you who are into that kind of thing. For now, I appeal to a general audience. _

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Testing her weight on top of a protruding rock, Brennan shifted, pulling her lip between her teeth. One wrong step, she'd tumble to her death and even Booth wouldn't be able to save her.

"I shouldn't have agreed to this," she called, digging her fingers into the smallest crevice. Ten feet below, Booth grunted.

"You think this is my idea of fun, Bones?" He shimmied to the left, pushing his foot into a nook in the rock. "We have no harnesses and we're scaling something that I personally call a vertical wall." He huffed, his fingers curling around a thick branch that jutted out of the rock-face. "Watch your step, Bones, the ground is unsteady here." Brennan murmured in response.

"This is why we were provided with the clues. If we had worked it out, we'd have brought harnesses." Booth glanced down, the shore seemed only marginally closer. Above his head, the cliff didn't seem to have moved much.

"And what was the clue, Bones?" His fingers tightened around the rock, his skin aching.

"It said '_When the abyss threatens, take care and hold on tight'. _I thought it might have been reference to ditches, hidden traps." Brennan followed her partner across the wall. Beneath her feet, rock crumbled and cascaded nosily to the floor below.

"If we survive this, Bones, I think we should take some time to review the other clues."

"I like how you say 'if' Booth. Your confidence in our physical abilities is astounding." Brennan felt dried bracken dig into her palm, she winced. "Are you sure we're even doing the right thing?" Booth released his hold, dropping to a ledge half way to the ground. Moments later he helped her off the rock face and they turned to waterfall, covered in dirt.

"I'm sure," Booth said, watching how she rubbed circles on her palm. "You've hurt yourself," he stated, encircling her wrist with his fingers. "What did you do?" She pulled free, wiping her hand on her combats. He saw how a patch of blood remained. "Brennan-"

"If we go that way," she interrupted, pointing towards the area with the most crevices, "then we will go slightly out of our way, but it's safer." Booth passed his tongue across his lips, his eyes narrowing as he watched the stubbornness pass across her features. He watched to reach for her. Regardless of how little her wound was, he wanted to ease whatever pain she felt. He felt certain he ought to have been entitled to it.

She was moving again, climbing off the ledge.

"Hey! Bones! You should let me go first!" She shook her head, swinging her legs, finding leverage on the jagged rocks. "I'm heavier than you. I can test the stability of the…" she grunted, hardly listening. He saw fragments break, the rock crumble beneath her weight. "Bones," Booth growled, moving after her, his extra strength affording him the ability to catch up quickly.

"Booth, stop whining I'm al-"

The stone she clung to pulled away, coming apart in her hand. She cried out, her arms flapping in an action that would have been comical, had she not been so close to falling off the wall completely.

"Bones!" He reached for her wrist, watching as she hung like a rag doll, swinging against the cliff face, her body smashing against the stone with a sickening thud. His stomach lurched. She called his name, her fingers clutching at his arm as she swayed. He swallowed. "Don't move, Bones," he warned, pulling on her until she was beside him, their bodies flush against the wall. Her breath came in rasping gulps. Her dirt caked cheeks were streaked with sweat and what he automatically knew was tears.

He saw blood trickle from her temple, along her face and down her jaw. Her lips trembled.

"It's hurts," she whispered, tilting to her left. He saw the tear in her shirt, the crimson red stain in the grey material.

"It's okay," he whispered, his arm snaking around her waist. "We'll get down." He wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to get them both to the ground. It had been difficult enough alone, but as she sagged against him, needy and dependant, he knew he had to, one way or another, carry through on his words.

She grunted only twice on the descent. Once, when he stumbled and her fingers tightened around his shoulders and twice when their bodies impacted the stony ground. He suspected the second noise she made was relief. Above their heads the cliff loomed, dizzyingly high. He sank to his knees, sucking misty air into his lungs. Brennan held her side, pressing her fingers to the sticky wound there.

"You need cleaned," Booth said. "Stay here."

Their rucksacks were a hundred yards along the shore, untouched by the river. Booth crouched, hefting the bags unto his shoulders. His knees trembled, and the realisation of their predicament seeped into his mind. She could have died. Because of a stupid competition between federal agents. She'd lost her balance and now she was hurt.

He pressed his fingers to his eyes, the pain behind his lids made him wince. If he'd slipped, only once, they'd have fallen to their deaths. If he hadn't reached for her, he'd have been powerless to prevent her from tumbling.

She could have _fucking_ died.

He repeated the truth silently, over and over until he was back at her side. Then his anguish was replaced by another truth - she was hurt.

"Nothing's broken," she whispered, her back arched against the pain in her side. "There's quite a deep gash," she was breathless.

"I'm sending up the flare," Booth said, rummaging in his bag. Brennan reached for his arm, her fingers tight around his wrist. He stilled.

"No," she hissed, vehement. "We have to win." His cheeks flushed.

"Bones are you crazy? This isn't about winning anymore. You're injured." He shook her fingers off, pulling an emergency kit from his bag. Standard FBI issue. She wanted to smile, but when she moved, her body ached. She closed her eyes.

"I don't want to go, yet," she sighed, her fingers closing around a smooth pebbled stone. "I want to reach the end and…" she coughed, "win."

Booth pulled on the edge of her shirt, swallowing hard at the depth and severity of her wound. Her knuckles turned white as he brushed the antiseptic wipe across her side. "When I was in the army," Booth said, stroking her torso as he worked, "I was running and I got snagged on barbed wire. My legs," he winced, "got torn up pretty bad. When my buddies and I reached safety, one of them had to do this," he dabbed the wound again. "You're braver than me. I screamed like a baby." Brennan tried to smile again, reaching out and stroking his hair in response.

"Don't light the flare," she said as he taped cotton-wool over the wash, followed by waterproof gauze. "I'm fine," Brennan promised. "Really." He was powerless to stop her as she saw up straight. He saw how her cheeks paled and she masked her agony well. She should have been a solider. Brennan would have been good at plodding on. "We can rest here for awhile, right?"

"I don't see that we have a choice," Booth replied. "We'd need to swim across the river and even though the other cliff isn't as high, I don't think you could make it up there." He uncapped a small bottle of aspirin and tipped two pills into his hand. "Here, once the pain eases, we can go."

Gulping water from the canteen around her belt, Brennan swallowed the aspirin and sank back against her bag. "You should rest, Booth. I'm going to need help getting up the cliff." He shifted against her, pulling her against his shoulder. She didn't fight him. There was no sexuality in the way he held her, anyway.

He cradled her against him in the way a husband might comfort his wife. He held her, soothed away the pain she felt. Adrenaline coursed though his veins as he mentally replayed what could have happened.

Brennan pressed her nose to his chest, her eyes closed.

She'd been resting for only thirty minutes when the rain began to fall - torrential and cold. She woke abruptly, pressing her fingers to her side. Booth scrambled, shouldering his rucksack and hooking hers over his arm. "Move, Bones. We have to go." She frowned.

"It's only a little rain, Booth," she said, smirking a little. He shook his head, eyeing the cliff, an expression of desperation coming over his handsome features. Brennan felt her stomach clench. "What's wrong?" Booth tugged on her arm, urging her into the water.

"The rain isn't going to stop soon. We need to get up the cliff. The water is going to rise." He wrapped his arm around her waist, moving until they were submerged in frigidly cold water. "All rivers swell if rainwater. It's inevitable. The rain flowers downstream, engulfing the banks. Before long, there'll be no shore left. If we don't climb, Bones, we die."

Urgh! I don't know if I do action stories very well. But let me know. I hope you enjoy! Oh and please excuse any mistakes in this - I didn't even have time tonight to read back over it properly. Thanks!


	7. Running on Empty

_Into the Wild_

_Running on Empty_

_Disclaimer: 'Bones' and its characters belong to Fox and it's affiliates. I am a wannabe novelist with no money and nothing to give except my cat._

_Rating: T. For those nymphomaniacs among us, there will be sex again later._

_A/N: Once again thanks to those of you who reviewed and those of you who have turned my inbox into a giant request tank. I hope I have sent all the stories I was meant to send. If you asked and didn't get, please send me a PM one more time. I will definitely get it to you this time. Thanks!_

She struggled to move through the frigidly cold water. Her arching side rendered her incapable of inhaling - and she needed to breathe so badly. Her chest felt tight and she suddenly understood what it meant to be asthmatic.

Her arms flapped fruitlessly, and despite carrying no weight on her shoulders, she felt as though a tonne was strapped to her legs.

Booth reached for her, his fingers closing around her sleeve to her as she desperately clung to him. His strength knew no bounds, now. She knew he worked moved on adrenaline alone. If they made it up the cliff face, he'd most certainly collapse. The thought panicked her, and she gasped.

It took so much energy to inhale, and a pain shot through her ribs. She jerked, sucking in a mouthful of water. She choked and gagged at the same time, trashing wildly. She was going to drown.

Around them the rain pelted, hitting their skin like bullets. She would have handled the rain, had she not been struggling so distraughtly in the water. Booth pressed his arm against her stomach, and she water spilled forth from her mouth, giant gulps of air flooding her throbbing lungs.

They waded through the river, falling in a heap of limbs at the shore. Booth knelt, his body dripping, his eyes wide. He looked frenzied and frighteningly determined. His knuckles were white around her rucksack. Brennan trembled, her eyes stinging. How had she been so foolish as to get hurt in the wilderness? How had she put them in such a stupid predicament?

"Booth…?"

"We need to go," he hurried, ignoring her one worded plea.

Brennan tried again, but his hand urged her forward, towards the looming cliff. He'd spotted a gentler incline and before she could apologise or even thank him, however trite it might have been, he was moving along the narrow strip of stony shore, his jaw tight. She hurried to maintain his pace, his longer legs carrying him towards the inclination faster than her. She stumbled, her fingers moving over her side, aching and bloody.

Standing at the base of the cliff for a moment, Booth sighed then tossed the bags unto the fist ledge. He moved with the skill and dexterity of someone who was trained, athletic and agile. She felt awkward and needy, digging her fingers into the rock, getting nowhere, fast.

His fingers encircled her wrists and he tugged. She thought her sockets might explode. Brennan could not remember a time when she'd been in so much pain. There had been a few occasions when she'd been hurt - but now, she thought she might die. The notion that she was being melodramatic forced her to grit her teeth and dig her feet into the rock crevices.

She felt stone bite into her knees, and tears fell from her eyes until the cliff above her was blurred. Booth paused for a moment, brushing his palm across her cheek. He held her forearms, his eyes glazed and intense.

"We're off the ground. We're alright, okay? We're alright. Stop crying, Bones." She shook her head, tendrils of her own hair clinging to her dirt-caked cheeks. She smelt blood and a sob caught in her throat. "Temperance," his fingers tightened. "Please? If we concentrate, we'll be okay."

She nodded mutely, pressing her fingers to her eyes, pulling her rucksack over her shoulders, swallowing hard. "Okay," she said.

Booth held her, helping her to the second ledge and then the third.

When her fingers touched upon the grass and wet soil at the top, and she'd hefted her body the final few feet, she released the anguished cry that had she'd suppressed the whole way up the cliff. She fell against the ground as though it were sacred, her arms aching and her legs trembling.

Next to her, Booth greedily drank from his canteen, kneeling. He shook off his bag, turning to her with new found concern.

"You need to rest, Bones," he said. More a second she contemplated refusal, and dismissed it at once. She wasn't even sure she could walk another few metres, let along continue their trek. Winning didn't matter to Booth anyway. He'd made that abundantly clear.

They would have to walk for miles downhill before they'd be at another river. Brennan sighed, dropping her head.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I've screwed up." He rummaged through his bag, his jaw tight,

"Yes, Bones, you did. You were enormously stupid, assuming you knew best." Her mouth gaped. She hadn't expected him to retort so bluntly and with so much fevered anger. His fingers tugged at her rucksack now, pulling the tent from within. He tossed aside the poles, the metal clinking nosily, reflecting the fury he so desperately wanted to unleash. "Why, Brennan?" His eyes were black - granite black - when he looked at her. She swallowed.

"Why what?" She asked, drawing her knees to her chest. A classic defensive posture. It hurt, even to move.

"Why did you launch yourself unto that rock? Are you insane?" A glimmer of hurt passed across her features at his insinuation. She resented the implication that she was mentally unsound. Afraid, yes. But crazy, no.

"You scared me," she stated, dropping her eyes to the soggy earth. "You wanted to look after me, and I'm not used to that." Booth frowned, wringing the canvas between his fingers.

"When? When did I frighten you, Bones?" She held out her palm, the thorny shrubbery had left an angry mark.

"You said I was hurt. You tried-" she shook her head. "I was stupid, you're right." Booth unrolled the tent, shifting his, glaring through the trees. They needed to move to less soggy ground. He got to his feet.

"I did what any partner would have done. I was looking out for your welfare. But if perhaps a part of my mind wanted to care for you in non platonic ways," he admitted, stopping at a point just inside the trees. The overhead leaves had sheltered much of the ground. He stomped the earth with his foot, satisfied that it wasn't a watery marsh. "If the prospect of that scares you, Brennan, then maybe you need to revaluate what made you sleep with me last night."

Temperance pressed her forehead to her knees. "Maybe," she whispered. The hurt she felt now was concentrated on the inside. She, who analysed everything, had not wanted to analyse why she and Booth had slept together. It had felt good. Better than good. It had felt amazing. She'd promised herself in the morning that she would embrace the new place they'd reached. That she'd allow Booth into her sanctuary and allow him into her independence.

Booth didn't ask for her help as he erected the tent.

He struggled with the poles but he didn't speak.

Brennan shifted, willing herself to help, despite Booth's obvious need to be left alone. When he turned his back, she sighed, dropping against her rucksack and closing her eyes. As her mind whirled from one subject to the next, she saw images of them together, naked and grinding and moaning each others name.

The rain slowed to a drizzle but below the cliff the river had begun to thunder. She thought of their escape, and how lucky they'd been that Booth was so alert. She, the scientist, had failed to acknowledge such a basic fact.

She sighed. "Booth?"

He stood, brushing dirt from his knees.

"I'm going to walk downhill, see if maybe I can find food. Stay here, Brennan. No more of you stupid daredevil escapades, huh?" She folded her arms, watching as he made off through the trees, his shoulders slumped. She understood that, now his adrenaline and need to protect had subsided, his anger had surfaced.

She wanted to apologise, but she wasn't sure how to explain that gnawing fear she felt at the prospect of handing herself over to someone else. She'd been alone for a long time. But she should have understood before indulging in hot wilderness sex that Booth was not like other men. He'd want commitment and things Brennan wasn't familiar with.

He disappeared, and she shuffled into the tent, dropping her head to the makeshift pillow, closing her eyes.

There were many, many things she needed to understand. And many things she needed to discuss with Booth.

But until then, she'd be alone, until he came back and she had the chance to speak with him.

She hoped by then his anger would have receded and he would at least afford her the chance to explain.

In the distance, she heard the rumble of thunder and realised it would be a long day.

_I had an idea that I might make another graphic chapter about how, since Brennan can't exactly have sex, Booth would please her. Let me know if you're all interested. PM me, of course. I will happily email you all. Sorry I have to do it this way, but I don't want my account shut down._

_I quite like the idea of Booth and Brennan naked in a tent with rain pouring down around them._

_Byes! _


	8. Apologies and Making Up

**Title: **_Into the Wild_

"**_Apologies and Making Up"_**

**Disclaimer: **_Not Mine._

**Rating: **_T - and the MA version will be mailed to those of you who applied! _

**A/N: **_Okay. For anyone else who wants to be added to my mailing list I need your email address. Probably best if you do **not**__send me this by PM as this website eliminates it from the message. Please email me directly at:_

_(please excuse the funny spacing, it's really necessary) pereybereparadise () yahoo (.) co (.) uk Look forward to adding you to the long list of smutty minded people! Ha! P.S. If you emailed me at the end of chapter seven, you don't have to do this! I should have got you!_

_Oh - and thank you all **so**__much. I've always loved writing, but you guys have made me feel like I'm doing more than brighten my own day! So I hope I can keep you entertained for a while longer._

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The impending storm held off long enough for Booth to light a fire and wrap fish in aluminium foil.

Brennan rested beneath her sleeping bag. The pain relief had been and gone and she felt the aching throb just below her ribs. When she shifted, her entire body seemed to protest, from her head to her toes. Her knees were raw, her muscles overworked and her behind her eyes her entire head seemed to bang.

"I hate the forest," she whispered to herself, nuzzling her cheek against her makeshift pillow. Outside, the wind howled between the trees, and she felt a chilly gust slip between the open canvas folds. Booth cursed when a small foil pot tumbled from the fire. She sighed. His mood had far from eased, even after his time alone.

She regretted her stupidity from the moment she'd felt the rock come loose in her hand. But she regretted it more now because, not only had they lost the challenge, but she'd effectively hurt Booth's feelings and cheapened everything that had happened between them.

Even she knew men like Booth did not come along often. She should have approached her own fears in a much more tactful way. Perhaps if she'd addressed her concerns like an adult, instead of leaping away like timid virgin they'd have been alright.

The panels parted and Booth knelt by the entrance, proffering a bowl of fish and a cup of water. Brennan shifted, teeth clamped over her lip as she refrained from grimacing. His eyes clouded with concern that went unvoiced. He was pissed. Too pissed to ensure her brush off. Maybe it was closer to hurt. He didn't want to watch her as she whispered how she was 'fine' and he would have to nod in agreement because, of course Dr Temperance Brennan would be fine. She was always damn fine.

"You need to eat," he said gruffly, passing the plate to her. "There's more aspirin in my bag. You'll need that, too." Brennan accepted the fish, resting the cup between her knees, she pressed her fork into the fleshy meat, turning the prongs until the fish broke apart. Booth sighed. "Are you going to play with it or eat it, Brennan?" She glanced up. He'd called her Brennan a few times since their debate. No Bones.

"I'll eat it soon," she said, turning to his bag. "Everything in there remained dry." Booth half nodded, half shrugged.

"There's waterproof lining inside. Only the top items will be wet." He shuffled outside again, and she speared another chunk of fish and took a bite. Unsalted, unflavoured with no dressing. Hardly Michelin Star. Brennan took a sip of water, wincing when even swallowing hurt her side. Her chest hurt to breathe. Each movement felt like an enormous effort.

Outside, Booth made a racket with the fire, pouring water of the flames and packing away the grill. After a few long minutes he slipped back into the tent carrying a small cup. Steam rose in curling columns, and Brennan imagined, again, being home in the tub, soaking away the aches and pains she felt.

She picked through the fish bones, swallowing the remainder of the flesh and emptying her cup. When she set the plate aside, she caught Booth's eye and tried to smile. His expression remained impassive.

"Take your clothes off," he demanded, pulling off his shoes. She recoiled.

"What?"

"Don't worry, Bones, I'm not going to make another pass at you. You need your wounds cleaned again." He gestured to the steaming water he carried, and tilted his chin. She saw hurt flash inside his eyes again, and felt a blush creep along her neck. How had their circumstances become so dire? How could she salvage the situation?

Unbuttoning her shirt, she slipped the material over her arms, catching sight of her own bruises. She grimaced. Her skin was marred with blackened circles and angry red marks. Where she'd cut her side the wound had swollen, blotched and revolting. She felt unattractive. As though her body were butchered.

"Lie back," Booth commanded her and she wordlessly complied, resisting the urge to hide the abrasion. Booth had torn a piece of cloth from a t-shirt and soaked it with hot water. Wringing the material, he dabbed her side, carefully watching her face for a reaction. Brennan closed her eyes, pursing her lips.

The hot cloth seemed to ease her tension and she eventually relaxed, releasing her breath from her lungs. Booth blinked, his expression seemed to soften, and so did her resolve.

"I'm sorry," she whispered at last. He drew his hand away, dipping the cloth into the water again.

"Yeah. I know," he replied, clenching his fist, squeezing the liquid from within the fibres. "I'm sorry too. My mind went into over drive." She nodded, tears prickling her eyes. She had cried more in a single day than she could remember crying in years. There was something about being injured in the middle of nowhere that made her realise how fragile the balance of everything was. It made her realise how many things she stood to lose in life.

She'd grown up without her parents and had believed for so many years that doing things the risky way didn't matter because she'd already lost so much. But looking at Booth, she realised she'd found something new that would cause an equal amount of heartache if she lost it.

"I'm scared of letting people into my life," she admitted, touching his hand as the cloth passed across her ribs. He stiffened, dropping his eyes to the sleeping bags beneath them.

The rain had started, now, heavily beating against the canvas above their heads. The pitter-patter would have been soothing, had they not been crouched inside a small two-person tent.

"I know," he repeated. "It's alright. I understand. Lie still." She froze, gnawing on her lip as she took her hand and brushed the cloth across the wound there too.

"I'm frightened by what I feel for you," Brennan said, draping her arm over her eyes. "It's intense and it's scary. I'm not used to…relying on anyone." Booth nodded, turning towards her pants. He unbuckled her belt, flicked open the button and slipped the cloth over her legs. She ought to have been embarrassed, but she felt a weight crushing her chest that could only be described as overwhelming emotion.

Booth dabbed her knee, his teeth grazing his lip. She saw the want there, and his attempts to conceal the masculine desire he was so powerless to stop.

"Bones…" he began, and stopped. "You're really torn up. We should-" She reached out, dropping her hand to his forearm, clutching there. His mouth closed, and his shoulders sagged, a sigh spilling from his lips. "Look, Brennan, I know what you're trying to say. And I understand," his fingers touched hers. "I really do. It's common knowledge around the Jeffersonian that you have enough in your life to keep you occupied and relationships and commitment are the last thing on your mind." Reaching across he stroked her cheek, it should have been sensual, but Brennan interpreted it as a friendly reassurance. "It's okay," he added, dropping the cloth into the bowl and unzipping the panel.

When he'd disposed of it, he pulled his wet shirt off and replaced it with a dry sweater. She watched as he fashioned himself a pillow and became vaguely aware of her near nakedness and how, she was no longer cold. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Booth-"

"We need to rest, Bones. It's going to be a rough night." He gestured to the whipping trees above their heads and the blustery wind. She inhaled.

"I didn't want commitment," she said. Booth nodded.

"I know." _Phrase of the evening_, Brennan thought.

"No, you don't, Booth," she said, ignoring the shooting twinge that moved through her body when she turned. "You don't know anything-"

"Well thanks, Bones! Thanks a lot-"

"I'm falling in love with you, Booth! It scares me more than almost falling off that damn cliff! It scares me more than _anything_ has ever scared me in my life because if I love you that means I have to accept you into my life. I have to accept that I'm not a singular anymore. Do you get it? Have you ever been alone for so long that you don't know how not to be?" His eyes were rounded orbs of astonishment. She felt her stomach lurch with nervousness and closed her eyes.

Booth faltered, quite unsure how to respond.

Her chest heaved, her breath coming from her lungs in raspy gulps. He felt guilty. Yet unbelievably elated. Reaching out, he placed his palm against her torso and she gasped. "Hey," he whispered. Her eyes flew open.

"You're probably finding this all a bit melodramatic, coming from the Jeffersonian's 'Ice Queen' but-"

"Stop analysing, Bones," he warned, shifting towards her. She ran her tongue over her lips, releasing a shuddering breath.

"Okay."

He smiled, bending his head and touching his lips to hers.

"Tomorrow, when you've rested, we can talk more. Until then-"

"I don't want to sleep. I want you to touch me. Like you did last night. Make me feel like that again, Booth." He smiled raking his eyes over her body, watching how she seemed to tremble with need. With desperation and exhilaration.

"You can't have sex, Bones," he said. "You're injured." She crushed her lips against his, insinuating her tongue in his mouth. He moaned aloud.

"Improvise," she whispered.

_Well, this is where MA version kicks in. So those of you who like it, I'll send it to you soon._


	9. The Second Task

**Title**: Into the Wild

_The Second Task_

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer**: They're not mine.

**Author's Note**: I want everyone to feel sorry for me. I hate my job and I want to quit! So everyone say a big 'awwww' altogether, now! Well, at least I've got my writing so, enjoy.

The morning brought with it the scent of spring and freshly fallen rain.

The forest smelt of damp pine and something spicy. Brennan stepped through the trees, pressing her hand to her side, relieved that the pain had eased and, although she was bruised badly, she could move. Breathe.

The river below the cliff was raging, the waterfall cascading a twice the volume it had been the day before. Brennan watched the curtain fall, thankful again that they'd climbed to safety before a current pulled them downstream.

Booth rolled his neck, stepping next to her, his hair dishevelled, his eyes tired.

"Do you want to continue, Bones?" He asked, dropping his hand to her shoulder. She smiled easily.

"Yes. Who knows what dangerous tasks await us!" Her grin faded when a darkness passed over his features. "Relax, Booth, I'm kidding. I'm sure-"

"You're right. The task yesterday was too dangerous and we haven't prepared for the next. We haven't read our next clue…" his voice trailed as she shook his head despairingly. Brennan chuckled.

"We'll manage. C'mon, we need to pack." He hesitated, eyes downcast for a long time. She wished they were back in the tent, breathlessly kissing, touching, momentarily oblivious to all the worries that faced them. "Booth," she took his hand in hers, a simple gesture but the most intimate she'd ever allowed herself. She was asking him to let her in. Just like she'd let him in. "I'll be alright, okay? Trust me."

He stroked her hand with his thumb and smiled. "I do trust you, Bones. I don't trust myself not to morph into an overprotective freak every time you trip or-" she pressed her finger to his lips and silenced him immediately. As if by instinct his mouth pursed into something of a kiss. She tilted her head, watching his handsome features, watching his eyes. He had captivating eyes.

"Then we're okay. Now lets go."

The downhill trek made their journey easier than expected. Since they'd made virtually no progress the day before and they were already on their third and supposedly last day, Brennan suspected they had a lot of ground to cover. Including the hill Booth had mentioned before leaving camp yesterday.

When they'd be walking for over two hours and the gushing sound of the river had returned again, Brennan stopped. Gulping mouthfuls from her canteen, she turned to Booth and half smiled. "Not another cliff climb, surely?" She joked and he shifted, unnerved at the prospect.

"We're too low. We should be at the bank of the river," he said. "Our route must run along the edge of the shore." He opened his map, peering at the contours as if the answers to the universe were contained within. She stepped through the thinning trees, dropping down a metre to the pebbly shore. She was fairly certain her mind would be haunted by images of the river for all eternity. Her ribs seemed to ache at the memory of her previous mishap.

"Um…" she glanced over her shoulder. Booth's navy shirt caught her eye. "I think I've found our next task!" She called, and his head snapped up from the map. He folded the paper in haste, slipping it into his pocket and moving towards her with wide, startled eyes. When he saw their next task, he stopped dead. After a few seconds, he kicked a round, white stone into the river. "It's alright…" Brennan said, touching his arm. He flinched.

"We're screwed, Bones," he sighed. "How can we…?"

Brennan examined the logs, six feet in length. The original logs had been cut down the middle, resulting in nine crescent shaped pieces of wood. There were nails, rope, a paddle and a green plastic tarpaulin. "It's alright," Brennan repeated. "It cannot be that hard, right? We've got all the materials." Booth growled.

"The river is still rapid from yesterday's rain. Taking to rough waters in a makeshift raft is just-" She was kneeling over the logs, positioning them one by one. He admired how she'd ignored her injuries all day. There had been hardly a whimper from her as they hiked miles. He found a note wedged between the rope. "Look at this Bones, a note from the big bosses 'You survived the endurance test. Task Two: Team Work. Build a raft that is sturdy enough to take you to Iris' Rise. From there, you will find your final task' Yeah, we survived the endurance test. Just barely!" He crumpled the paper into a ball. Brennan wasn't listening.

"If we use the nails, hammer them in at a slant," she demonstrated by tilting her hand, "they can hold the logs. There are two lengths of rope, here, if we tie the logs for extra binding at each end and then fasten the tarp to the bottom, as a waterproof covering then, technically, it should work, right?" Her eyes were expectant when she looked up. Booth chuckled, dropping to his knees.

"You're IQ is of genius levels, right?" She tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. Brennan loved being complimented on her intelligence and Booth knew it.

"Technically…" she said, nodding.

"Then I trust you to make this into something that will float. Let's go."

They worked in silence, Booth rearranging the beams, hammering nails into the pliable wood. There were only twenty nails. Six at the top, six at the bottom and four along the middle to strengthen the centre and four for the tarp. Brennan coiled the rope around two logs at a time, pulling until they had created something that, when they sat on it, did not break apart.

Encouraged by their success, Booth covered the bottom with the tarp, wrapping the wooden frame like a parcel. With the remaining nails he fastened the plastic to their raft, stepping back to examine their masterpiece. Brennan grinned.

"If it turn it, curves into the water, then we sit on the flat surface," she said, pulling her rucksack over her shoulders again. Booth followed suit, and together they eased the raft into the water, watching with bated breath, have expecting it to fall apart before them. It worked like a dream, bobbing contentedly in the rushing water. Brennan held it still as Booth took the paddle and climbed on top, when he took her hands and helped her unto the wooden logs that raft moved away from the shore, following the current.

Booth resisted the urge to whoop in delight. They'd completed their task, well, almost, without a casualty. Team work was obviously their forte. He plunged the paddle into the water, thrusting them forward, careening them around a wide bend to where the river seemed to stretch on forever.

Brennan dipped her hands into the water, scooping the icy liquid into her palms. Splashing her face, she inhaled. The stickiness of her hike was momentarily replaced by the cool goodness and she relished it. The forest, she knew, would never make her at ease but she felt such pride in knowing she'd survived so far. Maybe she'd been hurt, but she'd continued. She was a fighter…

As the tumultuous current carried them down, Brennan saw the uphill climb Booth had mentioned. The hill rose against the sky, black and ominous. Trees blanketed the slope half way and the peak pierced the blue sky, awe inspiring and black. Brennan pulled her lip between her teeth.

"Is that…?"

"Iris' Rise? Yep. You ready?" He paddled toward the shore, watching at the foot of the hill approached. Despite it's picture-perfect beauty, Brennan was not fooled. Danger lurked everywhere and she knew the third task loomed ever closer.

The raft hit the stones and they climbed off.

Booth slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Okay, Bones," he said, gazing at the hill. After all they'd endured, it looked more like a mountain. Like a difficult challenge. "We have one task ahead. After that, we're finished and this whole thing is over. We go back to our lives in Washington." Brennan nodded, grinning. When she saw he wasn't, she frowned. "I need to know," he continued, his brows knitting in thought. "I need to know if we go back to being FBI Agent and Forensic Anthropologist or do we continue to-" She tilted her chin.

"I haven't had very many lovers, Booth," she said. "A few but not many. They were okay but you… you're something else. You've made me feel the best things I've _ever _felt. No one else could have done to me what you did last night. And I'm not just talking sexually, either." He smiled a little, his dark eyes black with unveiled emotion. "I'm not likely to throw all that away, am I? Besides, this trip was about team building." Booth chuckled.

"I just needed to check. Just to know." She nodded, turning back to the hill.

Together, they began to climb.

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A short chapter while the idea bit me.

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	10. The Final Challenge

**Title: **Into the Wild

_The Final Challenge _

**Rating: **This one is rated a T.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Owned by Fox.

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! I hope you like this. As this is the final challenge I assume you can all guess this is the last chapter. Once this is posted my story will be complete. I want to thank every person who reviewed this. And everyone who signed up to my MA stories. I still cannot believe how many of you there are! Normally I don't dedicate my stories, because I'm not some best selling writer but I'm giving into the melodramatics of it this time and I want to dedicate my last chapter to every person who wrote to me and told me it was good. Thank you, so much!

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The top of Iris' Rise was spectacular, the height offering a panoramic view of the forest below. For the first time Brennan saw what she had endured for the past three days. The meandering river, the tall trees, the terrain, she saw it all and the sight was breathtaking. In a strange way, it was worth it. She wished she'd a camera.

Booth inhaled, smiling.

"Well, Bones," he said. "I think we are almost at the end. I cannot imagine they'd pick anywhere else to end the journey." Brennan shrugged.

"I'm not so sure," she said. "Where are the others? What about the last task?" Booth turned in a complete circle, to the valley behind them and back to the place where they'd come from. His elation didn't fade. "I think maybe we're late." Brennan added.

"Or maybe we're early. Who knows what happened to the others." She pressed her fingers to her side, wondering if anyone else had fallen off cliffs and almost drown in the river. She imagined they hadn't.

Turning she saw three other peaks, similar in height. The hilly formation ran in a row. To her right there was one, to her left, two. Brennan imagined the rising and falling land as waves. Between each hill the valleys dipped, and at the base, the river they'd rafted winded through.

"Look at this, Bones," Booth snagged her arm, leading her to a rounded stone at the highest tip of the hill. A second note was weighted by another stone. Booth snagged it. "Listen, 'You've reached your final task. It's a simple one. Spend another night in the forest and tomorrow, it'll all be over.' What kind of a task is that?" Booth passed the paper to Brennan, as if perhaps she might decipher something he could not.

"Well," she said, slipping the paper into her pocket. "Why don't you do the tent thing again and I'll see if there are berries or something in the forest down there," she pointed to the line of trees a quarter way down the hill. Booth nodded.

It took her only a few minutes to get down the hill and into the trees where the day light seemed blotted. A few beams of soft light broke through the leafy trees, but she struggled to see. She wasn't entirely sure she knew what kind of berries she was looking for. If only Jack was there. He'd know exactly what she needed and exactly what she should not pick.

She heard a shuffle behind her and spun, a scream caught in her throat.

"Be still," she heard the gruff voice before she registered the man's face. He reached into his pocket and she expected a gun. He pulled a leather badge and flicked it open. "Agent Clifford. Come with me, Dr Brennan." She crossed her arms, no longer afraid.

"I don't think so," she said, indignant. Clifford rolled his eyes.

"It's not an option. Move," he ushered her down the hill, his strides wide. She struggled to maintain his pace, and now that his fingers had grasped her bicep, she was stumbling. "Everything will be explained," the agent whispered. "Just do _not_ make noise, do you understand?" Brennan tripped, falling to the dirt. She swiped his arm, Clifford recoiled. "_Doctor Brennan_," he hissed, yanking her to her feet. "This is the third task and if you continue you'll alert your partner. _Move_." Confusion marred her brow, but she followed Clifford to the base of the hill, furious that she'd just wasted energy climbing.

They seemed to walk for thirty minutes and she knew Booth would be worried. He'd be looking for her now. She opened her mouth, ready to scream his name, despite knowing it would be futile now.

"I don't recommend you make noises," Clifford said as if reading her mind. In the distance she heard the familiar hum of a helicopter and stopped.

"What the hell is going on, here?" She asked. The agent sighed.

"You're annoyingly difficult, you know that?" He began to move, ushering her again. She hated how he didn't answer her question and how he acted as though he were in charge. He had not scaled cliffs, built rafts or survived on grilled fish for three days! He had no right to usher her anywhere!

The helicopter came into view when she was practically frog-marched into a large circular clearing. Clifford told her to get in, and with reluctance, she obeyed. When the agent joined her, the door slammed shut and the craft lifted, taking a sharp left turn. When she glanced over her should she saw Dr Jensen and Agent Turner's partner buckled into the seats there. She frowned.

"Okay maybe now you can inform me?" She asked, turning to Clifford with a blazing glare. He shrugged.

"Not yet. We have one last stop to make. Agent Patterson." Brennan remembered Owens and Patterson. Booth mentioned they'd taken a wrong turn. Which meant they'd found their way to the final task. The final task which no one had completed. She felt uneasy.

The helicopter banked again and another clearing came into view. When they landed, Clifford jumped out, running off into the forest. Brennan shifted, watching as his disappeared. She contemplated jumping out too. But the two women behind her didn't seem bothered at being bundled into a big military chopper and flown from one mountain to another.

They seemed to wait forever before Clifford returned, Agent Patterson following compliantly without a word. He looked relieved as he helped her into the aircraft, slamming the door again. He inhaled deeply, settling into his chair.

"Okay Mike, that's them all. Back to base." The pilot nodded once, and the helicopter rose.

Clifford waited a few moments, catching his breath before he turned to them. "Has anyone been hurt?" He asked, glancing at them each in turn. Brennan knew it was wrong to lie, and her side seemed to ache in response. But she shook her head along with the other women. She wondered if she looked as guilty as she felt. "Good. We've never had such a tight competition before." Brennan frowned. "Each of you arrived at the third point within an hour of each other. Admirable. Our tasks this year were not easy." Jensen was nodding her head in agreement and Brennan noticed a small abrasion on her temple.

She had many abrasions herself.

"How is this possible?" Brennan asked. She'd been incapacitated for a full day. The other teams should have made it to their hills well before she and Booth had. She glanced at each woman in turn, and saw how Patterson rubbed her wrist and the dark haired agent didn't rest her weight on her foot. As an anthropologist she knew all women had injuries that they weren't voicing. She felt less guilty, keeping her secret.

"Similar strengths can result in similar performances. Which makes the final task all the more breathtaking." Clifford smirked as the helicopter rose to the highest point in the entire forest. She saw the peaks of each four hills and everything beyond. "This," Clifford said, gesturing to the peak of the mountain. "Is Mount Linore. This is where we watch. We have a chalet here that affords us three hundred and sixty degree views of the forest. If a flare goes up, we can see it, pin-point the location and have a rescue team out in minutes." Brennan jolted when the chopper landed on a heli-pad with a thud.

"What's this got to do with the final task?" She asked, her patience wearing. Clifford smiled, seemingly proud of himself. Brennan was irritated.

"Whoever sends up the first flare, wins." The agent said as if it made perfect sense. It was the first time anyone else spoke. When Agent Patterson's did, her voice was strained.

"We were told igniting a flare would effectively eliminate us from the contest. We were told-" Clifford waved off her concerns.

"Yes, essentially until task three, that is true. However your partners do not know where you are, do they? This final task determines the lead agent's ability to prioritise. A good agent will want to alert someone to their missing partner. They'll no longer be concerned with the flare and what it represents." Brennan shook her head in disgust.

"That's a dirty trick," she said, folding her arms. The door breezed open but no one moved.

"Dr Brennan," Clifford said, "This is not a trip to the fair. This expedition has been carefully orchestrated to assess exactly where our agents stands in their abilities to do their job. It's not about coming away with a medal." The others didn't speak as they were led from the helicopter to the chalet. Inside the smell of coffee assaulted their senses. But Brennan was unprepared to indulge while Booth was wandering the forest alone, tearing his hair out in case something had happened to her.

"What happens now?" Dr Jensen asked, sitting awkwardly on the edge of a wooden chair. Around them the four walls comprised of glass showed every part of the forest visible to the naked eye.

"Now?" Clifford poured himself a cup of coffee. "Now we wait."

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It was explained that each agent had a different coloured flare. Whoever ignited the flare first, would win the contest.

"Ordinarily," Clifford said, "we'd have to take earlier performances into consideration but unbelievably you all done equally well. This is the decider." Brennan huffed.

"If this isn't a game, Agent Clifford, you seem awfully excited. You're treating this like an Olympic sport! Our partners are being unnecessarily tortured." Clifford rolled his eyes again.

"Don't be melodramatic, Dr Brennan," he said, adding cream to his coffee.

Standing at the north facing wall, Brennan saw the four hills, lined like a pretty constellation. She pressed her nose to the glass, wondering what might be going through Booth's mind. He'd be imagining the worst. He'd have images of her lying dead at the bottom of a bit and her stomach turned in disgust. How could these people justify a challenge like this?

The sun dipped, the sky darkened and after an hour and thirty minutes it seemed like no one was going to call it quits.

Brennan sank to her knees, watching the hills, her chest tight. Her ribs had begun to ache again, but she ignored the pain. She wanted to see Booth, wanted to see that he was alright. It was irrational and unprofessional, but her heart hurt in ways it never had before. She didn't care about winning. She didn't care if Booth never lit the damn flare. She just wanted the expedition to be over, so she could take him home and they could forget about hiking and catching fish and swimming in the river.

Brennan got to her feet, ready to turn when a bright white spark flew into the sky, exploding against the darkening clouds in a shower of red. Coloured sparks fluttered, and everyone in the room stood to attention, lining the window in awe. The beacon of light dissipated into something that resembled twinkling red stars until they were gone altogether, leaving only a trail of curling smoke that rose from the ground.

Agent Turner's partner turned to Clifford, her eyes wide. "Who owns the red flare?" She asked, and the agent dropped his eyes to a piece of paper in his hand. Brennan sighed, thankful that the damn thing was over. She could go home and pretend everything had been a dream. Except when Booth made love to her. She wanted to experience that again and again and the sooner the better.

"Agent Booth." Brennan released a hum, turning to Clifford as though she'd missed something. In her mind, she saw Booth leaning over her, his eyes expressing his desperation to be inside her.

"Agent Booth?" Turner's partner echoed. "There was me thinking he liked to play hero." She seemed irked. Brennan sank into the closest chair, closing her eyes.

Clifford was barking orders. "Get the other four out of there now." The pilot was off, and from outside Brennan heard voices. Three agents piled into the chalet and one more headed off with the chopper. The room was a buzz of activity, congratulations were plentiful but she heard none. Did these people really think it mattered to her that Booth lit the first flare? So he was recognised now as the best agent in the group but she'd known all along. They weren't informing her of anything new.

When the chopper returned forty minutes later, Booth was the first to leap out, making his way towards the chalet as though he were still a Ranger and he were on a mission. Brennan saw the look of dementia in his eyes and strode towards him. They didn't touch. The others were close, and public displays of affection lead to vulnerability and made everything to complicated.

"Are you alright?" Booth growled. She nodded.

"I'm fine. I had no choice… I had to come with him…" Booth silenced her, gesturing to the door. Inside, complaints rose throughout the group. Wasn't he meant to be revelling in the glory of being the best?

The air outside was cool, intensified by their height. It was dark, and above their heads the clouds had parted and the stars stone. It was the first night she'd been allowed to appreciate the sky. The trees had been a canopy above their heads for only a few nights. But it was too many.

Brennan sank to the ground, arms around her knees.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating?" She asked. Booth surveyed the darkened forest. The forest that had almost claimed her, yet at the same time, released her.

"What am I supposed to be celebrating?" He asked. "I thought you were injured." Brennan nodded, resting her chin on her knees.

"But I'm not. I'm okay. They say you're the most professional agent. They reckon only a focused agent, with good prioritising skills would have known the light the flare rather than plunder blindly in the dark." Booth shrugged, shaking his head.

"There was nothing professional behind my reasons for lighting the flare, Bones," he said, looking down at her. "Winning means nothing. You're the reason I lit it." She blinked. He crouched, his lips close to her ear. She tilted her head, inclining herself towards his hot breath. "And right now, I want to go home and I want to take you to bed. Properly." She inhaled, her breath trembling.

"Sounds good to me," she said, releasing a chuckle.

End

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Well, it's finished now. And I'm breathing a sigh of relief. Any more I might have had to kill them in order to maintain the adventure! I hope you liked it.

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